Unfiltered and hand-rolled kicker stick hangs from the lips. A new head of his own head was born in the streets. The inhale of nicotine is followed by the release of stress, and the shoulders drop into their lowered and relaxed states. The head of the man goes left, and the port side hand pushes down from the top. A deep breath with the cigarette still hangin', smoke twirls in the wind above as he releases the stretch and his stress. In one motion?!?!

A wire had been sent to a crew leader, and this vessel of the shores of this thing of ours was born cursed as was the rest of his entire bloodline. 

A tough old lady in jeans and red and black plaid flannel was behind the young petty thief. The thief of Aces found himself stretching randomly, mixing in dynamic stretches with standard gym-taught ones. The ol' schoolyard of Vega Venjinzzla to the north sat behind the new cap'n of the i7DD5IU91. The family was ready to release the black gold within'em a'gin'n again.

Meemaw's sign was glued.

For a measly 100k, our family will release the Bible of USS O'Reillyy

We are dumb but we are dangerous. We only accept legal wires forwarded to the bank of yee'haw't TexAssRepublikzArmyy

Headz of ye ol' beheaded and too much sodium in their bloodlines beware! We might make more sense to new blood than you

 

Morga Jankyy the freshest old hag in the streets stepped back and lit a spliff. Rat B. Kool was on the corner adjacent, Boomhauer Rappaport and Charlie Mingus the villainous monk watched on from a car parked a safe distance away. 

What the fuck did Camel make a bet on this time? Jesus these unfiltered smokes are amazing, TheCatch.45ACP smiles.

There's no way anyone has ever accused you of making more sense than anyone else, so I don't think people should worry about that. But I do like a good book, so I'm going to fund this bible. I love a good piece of literature, but this might just be the next best thing.

The Peach dropped $100,000 off at the bank and waited for the book to be released. Surely it would be something, and maybe one day fully deciphered so that everyone could understand it.

A jalopy crash!

Success! One hunn'idd thousand 

LetsDoThatAgain!

The aw shuck'stable one, line driven by his madness begins to dance. A wave of arms as he hands over a copy of the teachings of the oldest one. The big two1, riggidy squigly rektumm in his rectum. Reminiscent of the squid or octopi, the one true thief in the night. Petty tee'ver'dlyy the one son of the Golden gun's mum. How do you recover from calling Orange Gold though? Oh you don't? Fuck. Oh well. Wonder what would happen if TheCatch45 could stop analyzing the data in front of his optical'u'larr camera lenses. The Texas foul wafts his stench through the streets. Beer, cigarettes, weed, and freedom hit the draft in the gap of the thoroughfare he walked on at this moment.

A teenaged tall ass scruff mah'gruffian lookin' mahfucka walks up to the freshest i7 vessel in the streets. A poster clutched in his hand as he walks straight up to TheCatch45. TC45 leans over and whispers into the young boys ear after the youngster report's that the dojo of O'Reillyy's next masterpiece had been constructed in ink finally. i7DD5IU91 signals the "Go ahead boy, glue it to the wall" with the shake of his head, the sign goes up and it read.

250k and we'll teach new bloodz how to shoot their gunzz2

The scene on the crossway of this particular thoroughfare retreat back to their proper places. The 2 pigs safe in the blanket of comfortableness only found by being home watched on. Rat B. Kool had drunk hisself into a slight stupor. And Morga Jankyy just sat with her back against the wall, foot tap-tap-tappin' on the wall as traffic passes. TexAssRepublikzArmy's signals of smoke twirl up into the air...